A glimpse into the man
by obsessed1
Summary: A short ficlet about Sheppard and Weir. SHWEIRY


DISCLAIMER – NOT MINE.

When Elizabeth Weir rounded the corner, she could hear the raised voices before she could see who they belonged to.

She stopped dead at the end of the corridor when she could see Sheppard stood in the centre of the hall, arms outstretched and flanked by two military personnel.

"I don't give a crap what Caldwell said to do, just leave me the hell alone!" he was shouting as she slowly approached them.

He was swaying uncharacteristically and pushed off another attempt get him under control, "Tell Caldwell that he has no juris…jurisdiction over me, so he can go fuc-"

"John?" Elizabeth said when she was walking towards him.

He glanced up momentarily. He looked hot and flustered, his face slick with sweat and his eyes could barely focus.

One of the Officers tried to grab his arm again, "Colonel Caldwell has instructed us to take you to see him"

As soon as Sheppard felt the hand wrap around his wrist, he wrenched it free and pushed the younger man up against the wall. He had his arm across his throat and was pressing just enough so that the guy started to cough.

"I'm your commanding officer," he said faltering.

The other guy grabbed at him and pulled him back, but Sheppard managed to back hand him before the choked officer struck him in the face. Sheppard bent to one knee, but didn't go down. Instead he just stood silently and swayed.

"John, Whats going on?"

"I just want these fine gentlemen here, to leave me the hell alone" he said gesturing wildly. His lip was split and there was a short trickle of blood from his nose.

When Elizabeth got up close to him, she could smell the alcohol on him, "John, Have you been drinking?" She knew that it was a stupid question, but she didn't want to believe he was drunk at noon.

He breathed in heavily, hands outstretched to fend off any surprise blows and that's when Elizabeth realised that he had a piece of paper clutched in his left hand. She searched his eyes for an explanation but he just kept staring passed her. She could see his lower lip trembling; his jaw was set in a manner of determination. She wasn't going to break him.

"John?" she reached out and touched his bare arm.

For a moment she thought she could feel the electricity flying off him and he momentarily seemed to connect with her.

"Just….. please tell them to go" he said looking down at the floor.

"What's wrong?" she asked signalling with her hands for the two officers to step back.

John remained still and he was about to answer when his earpiece crackled and Caldwell's voice started to make his head hurt. Sheppard pulled out the ear piece, calmly handed it to Elizabeth and stumbled towards his quarters using both hands to balance himself as he moved.

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When Sheppard opened the door to his room, he barely made it to the toilet before he threw up the contents of his meagre stomach. He wretched until his throat was sore and bought a steadying hand up to his forehead when the room began to spin. Drinking alcohol this early he knew was both bad for his liver and bad for his facade, but he didn't care. He had been caught off guard, tricked into a false sense of security and today Caldwell had returned from earth with letters and this one he had not expected. He scrubbed at his face with his hands, wiping the blood from his nose onto his hands, to try to clear up his head. It wasn't working and he was losing control. _Had_ lost control in front of everyone. His team, Caldwell, Weir. He had been stood in that damn gateroom having returned from a successful mission and he had been handed a letter in a crisp white envelope. He had opened it there and then.

Stupid move.

It was a miracle he had composed himself long enough to get to the kitchen and steal that secret stash of Athosian alcohol. There he had sat, still dressed in his full uniform and vest, clutching his P90, cowering behind a crate of potatoes of all things, drinking himself into a stupor.

He laughed out loud and rubbed at his face again. His eyes were watering and he would not allow himself to cry. He hadn't cried in nearly twenty years and he wasn't going to break the habit of a lifetime.

"Fuck!" he called out and slammed his hand down on the edge of the toilet.

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Elizabeth heard him cry out when she got to his door, but paced a further few minutes before summoning the courage to knock. There was no answer, but she didn't wait for an invite. She opened the door and waltzed in expecting to find Sheppard stood in the centre of the room, angry at her for invading his privacy.

Instead, she found him in the bathroom, curled into the corner, his head resting on his knees, his hands wrapped around his legs.

"John?" she asked quietly and knelt down next to him on the hard floor.

He didn't move.

"John?" she pressed and he suddenly snapped his head up and looked at her with absolute horror.

"Elizabeth," he said swallowing hard, "What are you doing here?"

"Something's wrong." she said noting he smelt both sweaty and sour.

His eyes were red.

He stood up, slipping slightly on the floor and she caught his elbow before he dropped. He shrugged her off and walked over to the sink to wash his face.

"John"

He wasn't listening; he was reaching for a towel and patting at his face.

"Have you been sick?" she asked as she watched his pale form.

She followed him into the bedroom where he picked up his boots from the floor and held them in his hands, staring at them as if they were some important and new discovery, "I'm fine," he said unconvincingly. His voice hitched up at the end signalling he was stressed.

"Drinking in the afternoon?" she queried trying to mentally urge him to look up at her.

"No," he said swallowing again and fighting against the nausea in the pit of his stomach, "Just…" he stopped.

He stared at his shoes, shifting them from one hand to the other when suddenly he looked up and hurled them across the room. They hit the wall with a dull thud and Sheppard bought a hand up to his face.

Elizabeth immediately crossed the distance between them and placed a hand on his shoulder, "What's happened?" she asked easing him down onto his bed.

He wouldn't let her see his face, but she could see that his mouth was contorted in an expression of pain.

"I'm fine" he said still covering his eyes.

From beneath the palm, she saw a tear slide between the space and roll down to his chin. He didn't seem to notice.

Elizabeth spotted something on the floor and she picked it up. It was a letter addressed to John. "Does any of this have to do with this letter?" she asked placing a protective arm around his back, "Please, talk to me. It's just you and me here," she said patting his back.

John more than anything, felt oddly embarrassed; he didn't want to cry in front of the one woman it mattered the most.

He leaned forward, blindly reached for the letter, and rested his elbows on his knees unable to fight the feeling which swelled inside, "Its.." he faltered, stifled back a sob, "Its from Greenwood nursing home." He stated bobbing his knees up and down to cover his sobs. "My mom……." Another painful pause, "My mom she um, she…"

Elizabeth suddenly realised what he was finding so hard to say, "Oh god John, I'm so sorry" she said reaching her arms around him.

They stayed like that for a long time. Him trying to hide the fact he was crying, her keeping a hand on his back to let him know she was there when he was ready to talk.

He sat up stiffly and looked her in the eye, unspoilt tears threatened to drop but he was managing an amazing feat of control to keep them at bay, "My mom……" he repeated.

"When did it happen?" asked Elizabeth using her thumb to wipe away a tear on his cheek.

He looked so vulnerable, his hair was mussed up, he was unshaven today and even bleary eyed and semi drunk he was still as handsome as ever.

He swallowed, his bottom lip curled and then he said more clearly, "A few months ago" he said wiping at his face, "She died the night I left for Atlantis,"

"I'm so sorry" she repeated for want of a better phrase.

"She had been ill for a long time" he let out a laugh, "I hated her for it. She was always so strong, you know?-" he stared at Elizabeth for a moment and studied her face. He hated her to see him weak, but somehow he didn't want anyone else there, "It near killed me having to put her in a home but I was away. Dad died years ago and-" he paused, "Shit," and he stood up and balled his fists up.

"John?"

"When I was making the decision to leave I sat in this park and you know what-I flipped a coin as to whether i should see her before I go" he shook his head, "Heads I see her, tails i don't" he ran a hand through his hair, "It was heads, but I decided not to see her anyway. I thought it would be too traumatic"

"For her or for you?" asked Elizabeth taking up her vigil again.

He looked at her quizzically.

She felt guilty for having stated the obvious, but he got it.

He came to sit on the bed again, "If I had just-" he wringed his hands together.

Elizabeth placed her hands over his and looked at him, "We all made choices when we came here, don't blame yourself for this."

John shook his head, "I can't help it," he said regaining some of his composure, "Its just another bad choice in a long line of shitty choices" he said sinking back onto the bed.

Elizabeth pulled him back up to a sitting position, "You John Sheppard are the best thing that could have happened to Atlantis. Don't go loosing faith in yourself now. I cant do this without you."

"I lost her years ago really." he mumbled, "But I figure now this, it really hits home. Its final."

"Alzheimer's?" asked Elizabeth and she was shocked when she realised that she had been stroking his hand.

He nodded, "Shitty disease" he slurred sinking back onto the bed again. He didn't want to talk about it and Elizabeth could tell. "I'm drunk" he said rolling onto his side and he grabbed Weir by the arm and pulled her down next to him.

"Do you want to talk?"

He shook his head, "No," he said sadly. "Will you stay with me a while?" he asked looking at her with wide eyes.

She smiled, "Of course," and she reached out to brush a strand of hair from his face, "You're not alone here John, you may think you are but you're not" she rubbed a finger over his split lip, "You should see Beckett…………there are a lot of people here who care deeply about you. Don't forget that."

"Thank you" he said shifting closer and he leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

It was soft and gentle, his lips brushed against hers for a moment afterwards and Weir felt like she was sixteen again.

Elizabeth was also very slightly taken aback and stared at him for a moment but he was closing his eyes.

"I just kissed you" he said eyes still closed.

"I know" she said rolling onto her back.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?"

"You're drunk and you're emotionally fragile, now get into bed properly" she said pushing him to lie straighter on the bed.

"Sounds like a line I used on a girl once…." He slurred, "Thank you for listening to me, I thought-" he stopped and his eyes met hers, "I thought I was going to implode or explode if I had to keep that inside"

"Its okay John, why don't you get some sleep?"

"Don't wanasleep" he slurred as his eyes closed.

"When you wake up, you can tell me about your mom" she said, but he was already gone, snoring lightly, letter tightly curled in his hand.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED, DON'T REALLY KNOW WHERE THIS IDEA CAME FROM BUT HOPE YOU ENJOYED.


End file.
